


I have so many bugs to bring her

by funnyhowthatis



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, thinking of yasha as a low-charisma child warms my heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funnyhowthatis/pseuds/funnyhowthatis
Summary: In which Yasha brings Zuala beautiful things.
Relationships: Yasha/Zuala (Critical Role)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	I have so many bugs to bring her

It was mostly tall marshy grasses for her. When she was little, and she bent down just a bit, they could obscure her entirely. She would get lost in them, let herself get lost in them, be lost from others in them. Sometimes it was better to be alone to think her thoughts and watch the world. 

Sometimes she was alone with Zuala. Of course Zuala would be the one to spot her when no one else did.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for cool bugs."

"You're weird."

"Oh, I-"

"I like it."

It was simple in the beginning. Zuala was fast and nimble and would climb into the short trees, using their leaves for cover as she shot small birds down from the sky to bring home for lunch.

Yasha would explore more slowly, trailing behind, not even realizing how long she had stopped at an odd shaped log until Zuala had already doubled back.

"You find something?"

"Look at this beetle."

"It's gross."

"No, look at the colors." Yasha didn't mind holding the insects in her palms. She held this one up, closer to Zuala. Zuala wrinkled her nose and then leaned in, the disgust slowly leaving her face.

"It is kinda beautiful."

"These ones taste good, too," she added with a mischievous grin.

Zuala laughed and shoved her a bit. "I'll catch you a bird. I can't let people think my best friend is going hungry because I can't catch her anything."

"Your - ?"

Yasha watched her with wide eyes, always. Zuala was the loud one, the bright one, the one who all of the kids their age loved to play with. And yet here she was, stealing time away with Yasha. Yasha, who besides these long afternoons with Zuala, preferred to be alone. Yasha, whose face turned red when she had to speak in front of a crowd. Yasha, who until Zuala found her in the grass, didn't really have any friends. 

As the years began passing, Zuala nudged her more and more to leave her shell.

"Come with me to the creek, you'll love it!"

"We're going to explore that old mine. Will you come with me?"

That was the way Zuala showed her love for Yasha. 

“Come with me, please. It won’t be as fun without you.”

By taking her by the hand and running with her through the light. Showing her the world, and everything else that brought her joy. Wanting to exist with her, everywhere. 

And Yasha - Yasha showed her love more silently. She brought beetle after multicolored beetle. She brought bark with colorful insides. She brought sands of different colored shades. Anything in her world that could be turned into art, she took and brought for Zuala. 

-

"So, you're finally done with training for today?"

They still met sometimes in their childhood haunts. Among the grasses that now only came up to their waists. Sometimes they would revert to old ways, Zuala climbing a tree and catching a bird. This time not to bring back home, but for Yasha to cook over a small fire, for them to share. 

Other times it was a bit different. Them simply sitting next to one another, under a tree. Zuala would lean her head back to look to the sky, and Yasha would watch her. She'd look away if Zuala caught her watching, until she didn't. Until she was brave enough to keep holding Zuala's eyes. Until she was brave enough to reach out and take Zuala's hands in hers. Then to touch her cheek. Her hair. To touch her lips.

"What are you doing? We'll get in trouble if -"

"I know. I know, I'll stop."

"Please. Don't stop."

And so she didn't. And their afternoons amid the grasses grew longer and longer and more colorful. 

One afternoon Yasha kept her waiting. She took different strands of dried grass and knotted them intricately together, weaved them together along with small shards of colorful beetle shell.

"What’s this?"

"Let me tie it for you."

Tied around the right wrist, and Zuala, beaming, kissed her and kissed her and - 

"It's beautiful."

"Zuala," and it was as if Zuala knew what she was going to say before she said it, "Zuala, I know how our world works. But I've been collecting these things to weave together for you, and thinking. I don't ever want to stop bringing things to you."

A deep breath. "Do you mean it? What you're saying?"

"Yes."

"Then please, never stop."

And so Yasha kissed her and kissed her and vowed her life to her right then and there, against every law she knew.

And it was beautiful and oh so colorful, until it wasn't. 

-

It was mostly clouds for a while. Clouded grey skies and clouded vision for Yasha. Wandering with no apparent direction. Memories fading grey into the back of her mind.

Somewhere between dreams and nightmares and emptiness Yasha registered the presence of flowers as she made her way. 

She noticed that there were different colors and shapes and sizes. That they changed as she walked and walked and walked. 

She'd find herself missing weeks or months at a time. She'd open her eyes and wonder how far she'd traveled since she last remembered opening them, but then she'd look at the flowers. Were they familiar, or had they changed. 

She wasn't thinking properly when she plucked the first one. In a daze, and thinking only of Zuala's smile, Zuala's laugh, Zuala as a child leaning in to look at a beetle - she took a purple flower from the ground and pressed it into a book. Zuala would love to see this.

She wasn't thinking properly when she began weaving small strands of her hair together, embedding small flowers in between. It was a familiar motion, and it brought her comfort, and she didn't want to think of what it meant. Even if she could feel it - with each strand, another promise, another vow.

At some point there were eyes upon her, watching her do this. Friendly eyes. Caring eyes. She didn't want to be watched, but she didn't stop. 

At some point those caring eyes began to ask questions. She had been avoiding this - had been alone for so long, depended on secrecy even longer.

"What made you leave in the first place?"

Maybe it was time to talk. A new kind of warmth, a new kind of feeling of someone looking and seeing her, despite how hard she tried to hide.

And once she started she could not stop. 

"I know one day I want to go back there. I don't know where she was buried, but that's - I have so many flowers to bring to her."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working my way through campaign 2 right now, only in the 50's. Apologies for any potential canon contradictions!


End file.
